


When the Curtains Close

by withyouandthemoon



Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 01:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withyouandthemoon/pseuds/withyouandthemoon
Summary: What happened in the building after Caroline left in TO 5x01. Mostly just Klaus and his ego-centric thoughts.





	When the Curtains Close

In all those years spent away from her, Klaus did not always think of Caroline when he drank champagne, regardless of the resemblance between the clear bubbly golden liquid and the girl he preserved in his deepest memory.

 _Champagne_ was not their thing, not exactly.

Champagne with Caroline, with the light banter and the meaningful smiles and the thousand messages that they unintendedly gave during equally unintended prolonged eye contacts, _that_ was their thing.

But every time he did think of her with the glass in his hand and the liquor buzzing on his tongue, he could not help but secretly ponder what could have been.

He could argue that what was done was done, and that every happening in his life, planned or not, led him to where he was at the time and even with all the chaos going around, it was not a completely regrettable place.

But that was the thing with the true cravings of your life. You would not ever stop wondering about those other paths that were long missed, those parallel timelines that got physicists talk a mile a minute in their awkward, stuttered, esoteric, but all the same brilliant speeches. Arrogant as he was, Klaus was not prone to claim any scientific prowess on his part, but a millennium on earth had at least taught him to keep an open mind.

Which could be a serious problem at times, because he didn’t know which was crueler to himself, to believe that there were actually versions of himself out there enjoying what was ripped away form him, or shut down the possibilities all together.

Rarely did he dwell on the subject, and when he did his attitude frequently altered. But right this second, standing on the ornately-decorated balcony of the building owned by the Gatineauxs, sipping the champagne he found in the family’s much-praised cellar, he found himself strangely comforted by the notion that in another universe, there would be another glass in front of him held by a smiling Caroline, her eyes lit up and her cheeks flushed from the breath-taking view of the Seine.

He must concede, the building was, all things considered, a valuable piece of architecture. And not just because around the vast space now lingered her special scent, one that was quite different from what he once remembered, but with which he already felt familiar, once again.

In retrospect, that was probably the reason why he didn’t sense her entrance before she showed herself. It was not until he felt her firm yet warm grip around his throat that his brain registered her smell, sweet and floral like before, but richer now, with a hint of intoxicating danger, like fine aged wine. And it was that scent that hit him as strongly as being pushed into a wall, dizzying him with the afterthought that he would smell its residue on his bloodied clothes for days.

In the heat of the moment he’d almost considered forgoing changing altogether.

He could feel that heavenly aroma being washed away as the cleaning crew he’d compelled worked downstairs. The bodies were handled discreetly, and the building thoroughly rid of any traces of the murder, the way he assumed Caroline would have wanted. Granted it was not necessary for him to stick around and see the whole thing through, but he’d indulged himself the time of a glass of champagne.

Somehow he felt close to her here although she stayed for no more than half an hour (another testimony to his theory that all things nice are either fragile or fleeting). He knew that hypothetically he could just hop on a plane and be in Mystic Falls in less than a day. She would be expecting him even, though not for the reasons he greedily wished for. But she’d be right there.

And yet her ghost of an existence here, backed by her brief visit, seemed more vivid and real than anything hypothetical. So real that he couldn’t help but revel in it just a little longer, when the clock is relentlessly ticking in the back of his mind.

Much to his annoyance, half a minute later that looming sense of urgency visualized in front of him as the freckled redhead that was obviously in charge of the cleaning team, “sir, we have finished, and the other guys have left here as you asked.”

In a flash Klaus pinned him to the wall, his hand pushing down hard on the redhead’s chest, “good job, mate. But next time do bear it in mind that I prefer when people knock before they enter.”

The man was shaking like a leaf under his hold, “I…I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t thinking…”

“Apparently.” Klaus pulled the corners of his mouth to form a half-smirk, “and here I thought you’d be more prudent given your obvious fear for me.”

The shaking got more violent, and Klaus could hear the low whimpers squeezing out of the guy’s tight throat. With a pensive look he dilated his pupils, “do not be afraid. I will not kill you. Otherwise I would have asked your colleagues to do the cleaning after, wouldn’t you agree?”

Carefully taking trembling breaths the redhead nodded, “yeah, that…that makes sense.”

Huffing a laugh, Klaus released him and took another sip from the glass, “I have to confess I have never compelled anyone to not be afraid before.” He shrugged at the man’s confused look, “you could say I’m feeling a little…experimental today.”

“You see, I usually enjoy it when the person I compel knows exactly what’s happening-that they are losing control of their own mind and body, and there’s nothing they can do about it. I can just smell their fear and despair, emanating from every pore of their shriveled bodies. It’s quite addictive.” He licked his lower lip before quirking an eyebrow, “but someone once told me that I don’t ‘connect’ with people. So I thought I’d give her way a try.”

Klaus circled the redhead, assuming an innocent facial expression that suggested his interest, “now, tell me, mate, what is your name?”

“Kip.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Klaus tutted, “well, that is certainly an unorthodox choice. So, Kip, do I sense an American accent?”

Kip nodded, scratching his head, “yeah, Tennessee, actually. I thought I’d do some traveling, so I just packed up my bag and used all my savings on a plane ticket.”

“A rather courageous move.” Klaus fingered the rim of the glass, “stupid, of course, but courageous nonetheless. I suppose you finance your travels by doing household labor then?”

“Oh no,” Kip laughed, “I’m staying for the time being. Paris is pretty cool.”

“Perhaps not in those exact words, but I agree with the sentiment.” Klaus let the champagne run through his throat before continuing, “do you know what I love the most about Paris? Come on, mate, venture a guess.” He prompted at Kip’s blank face.

“Um…the Louvre?”

Klaus laughed. Such a clichéd assumption, but he could easily imagine Caroline coming back with the same line, along with at least three jabs about him being an artist. Or if she was in a particularly bad mood she would probably throw the Eiffel Tower in his face just to tick him off.

“Such an unoriginal thought-pun unintended.” Klaus smirked at the joke, not bothering to explain, “though I guess I can’t blame you. It’s hard for mere humans to see through the distracting glamor of earthly delights. Don’t take me wrong, I am a big fan of the museum, but it hardly speaks the essence of the city.”

He swishes the remaining liquid in the glass, looking out the balcony, “the city itself is the most beautiful paradox I’ve ever seen, a delicate balance of cruelty and valor, vulgarity and refinement, luxurious indulgence and excruciating struggles.” Half-closing his eyes he took in a deep breath, “you can detect in the air the smell of arguably the finest cuisine in the world, mixed with years and years of bloodshed.”

“Oh, right, as a matter of fact you can’t.” He turned back to face Kip, who was looking as clueless as ever, “you are not a vampire.”

All of a sudden the deceiving calmness was sucked out of his whole being, and the consuming pit in the center of his chest felt like a rapidly-spreading tumor. Every bit of his flesh and blood was being eaten away by the cutting realization that he was telling all these things to the wrong ears, at the wrong time.

All his life there was _never_ a right time.

No right time to reunite his family who he have wronged and who have wronged him, no right time to bond with his daughter who was this…this half-stranger tied to his rotten bones by their cursed blood for all eternity, no right time for damned Paris, Rome and Tokyo that he once promised Caroline out of a stupid whim but had never quite forgotten since the second those words slipped through his lips as if they had a will of their own. Not even a chance to make a proper seemingly-effortless reference to them in their limited time together.

Before he knew it he was looming over Kip, one hand around his throat in a chokehold, his veins and fangs protruding like the monster inside him, “well I’ve tried it and the verdict’s just in. This ‘connecting’ thing is boring as hell.”

He didn’t connect with people because there was nothing to connect to. He may be someone _worth knowing_ according to a certain blonde vampire, but apparently they are not. These pathetic little creatures living every day with beating hearts and pumping blood when he hadn’t felt alive for years.

_Not until today._

He lowered his head for the vibrating pulse in Kip’s neck, when a flash of golden light from the guy’s shirt pocket caught his darkened eyes. Keeping Kip still with a mere look, he reached down, only to fish out a tiny piece of jewelry with a golden gem in the center.

Caroline’s earring.

Klaus held it midair between two fingers, the delicate accessory trembling uncontrollably like his hidden heart, yet his voice quiet and deadly, “where did you get this, mate?”

Kip shrugged, unaware of the imminent danger under Klaus’ previous compulsion, “found it downstairs in the utility room. Someone must have dropped it.”

Klaus sucked in a breath. It made sense. He remembered making the trip to the room with Caroline, in search for those cleaning supplies. If he closed his eyes for a second he could even picture the earrings in his head, dangling left and right with Caroline’s swift moves.

It was a peaceful, even light-hearted few minutes for them both. The heavier subjects were put on hold because Caroline was on task mode, and he was contented with simply watching her from his vantage point against the door frame.

“Klaus the Mad? Seriously?” He remembered Caroline throwing him an incredulous look over her shoulder while rummaging through the cabinets, “that’s a little too dramatic even for you.”

“Says the drama major.” He never let go an opportunity to tease her.

“Yeah well, I’ve had my fill of all that jazz.” Caroline shook her head a little, “and it’s not what it’s cooked up to be.”

“I beg to differ, love. It’s exactly what it’s cooked up to be.” Klaus smirked, his voice thickening like velvet, “the spotlight, the hot rush, the heady illusions, love, death and everything in between wrapped up into mere hours of emotional inebriation and abandon. It’s hard to resist the appeal.”

“True.” Caroline inclined her head slightly to the side thoughtfully, a few strands of hair sticking to her soft silky neck, and all Klaus wanted at the moment was to brush them aside and press his lips there, tracing their paths with his scorching breath. The only thing keeping him remotely sane was Caroline’s voice, “but when you have eternity on your hands, you have to kind of change your perception of these…oh right, _human conventions_.”

“Now _that_ ,” Klaus’ smirk widened, “sounds incredibly wise.”

Caroline snorted at that, of course, but not without a little beautiful laugh. “It somehow resembles our human lives, all those drama.” She had a tender but distant look in her eyes, “so bright and blinding, almost desperate, like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Again, I could understand the appeal.”

“We’ve had our stage time, Klaus.” Her eyes pierced him and Klaus wanted to argue that as long as she was looking at him like that he would always feel in the spotlight, but he didn’t because her look, like any spotlight, wouldn’t last, “and every one of us have to decide what happens after the curtains close.”

He searched her deep blue eyes for a long while, his voice almost hesitant, “then I guess it’s a good thing we have endless time on our side.”

“You are damn right it is.” Caroline smiled with a flip of her hair, her earrings shining like a silent whisper, “’cause it’s the hardest decision yet.”

 _Indeed it is._ Klaus bit his teeth as the single earring now shone again in front of his eyes, which were slowly returning to their natural color.

He inhaled long and deep, letting all those haunting screams and bellows inside of him die down. He’d always been good at controlling his monster, but he certainly didn’t always choose to rein it in. And he didn’t plan to.

Smiling devilishly he downed the last of the champagne in the glass, and held it over to Kip, “I’m feeling a bit peckish, mate. Care to donate?”

With Kip’s nod he bit down on the man’s wrist and held it above the glass. When it became almost full he released him, and once again dilated him pupils, “thank you, mate, you may leave now. Forget everything that happened here. And take the bottle.” He gestured to the champagne sitting on the mantelpiece, “it’s quite good.”

The second the taste of the blood hit Klaus’ tongue, a small smile danced its way to the corner of his lips. _B positive. Thought so._

He downed the warm liquid in one long gulp, savoring every drop as well as the view of a blood-colored Paris in front of his disfigured monster eyes.

In all his years roaming the continents, he’d tried almost all things imaginable to humans as well as vampires, a good proportion of which Paris had witnessed. He knew the land like the back of his hand. One time he flashed around the whole city at his top speed, palaces and brothels, churches and pubs, men and women in silk or in rags, past and present, all blurring into a glowing feast of flowing colors. He’d painted that picture afterwards, what others deemed an abstract portrait of his impressions but in fact the unaltered still from his vision.

It was all about the perception.

And now, in two seconds’ time he’d have drained the blood in the glass, and he’d for the millionth time flash into the city that had accompanied him all through his years. Only this time, he knew that there would be a trace of _her_ in that glowing blur of colors.

And that would be enough for him. For now.


End file.
